The Grievances of a Tent
by Wallatrance
Summary: Life as a party tent in Hobbiton is difficult, especially when you're about to get blown up by Merry and Pippin. Tent's POV.


It is a dangerous thing to be someone like me in Hobbiton. Of course one has to become like me to face such danger, especially in a town like this. Oh the Hobbits, great round things, sometimes I think they're quite malevolent though most who travel here think they are just charming. I know differently, as I have studied the Hobbit folk, their mannerism, their learnings, and behaviour for some years. What I can tell you will astonish your mind and ensnare your imagination, but I digress. This tale has to do with a single event of my life, my downfall. The day two young Hobbit lads of a most insidious sort came up with a plot to end my days with a bang.

Enraged, I will begin. It was early in the morning when my caretaker, Longo, woke me up quite unpleasantly. Lately things had been quiet for me; Longo didn't like to take me out much, what with my elderly status. In all my days I had never seen such excitement coming off of him though. Longo promptly took me down to a lovely paddock that was sparkling in the dawn light. I proclaimed to Longo that it was to be a beautiful day, but he did not respond. No Hobbit ever responds to me, those rotund, creepy creatures, quite disturbing how they even manage to completely ignore everything I say, but I again digress. Longo proceeded to set me up with a nice patch of grass next to a young fellow I had met a few Hobbit events ago. Content to chat with naive boy (he seems to think Hobbits are harmless, what bollocks) we sat for the majority of the day whilst the Hobbits of Hobbiton rushed about preparing. It seemed there was to be a party.

For the most part, Hobbit parties were fine. Yes, there was an occasional amount of food dropped on me, and once or twice there was a puking incident, but overall Hobbit parties were all in good health. The afternoon dragged on and the young fellow beside me was getting quite grating. Unfortunately, there was no way for me to move without the help of either Longo or another. All my cries for aid to Longo went unnoticed as I hoped, for once, that the fat, hairy Hobbit would hear me. Alas all my calls went unanswered, and the boy noticed I was trying vainly to get away from him and thus refused to talk to me. My entertainment for the evening was suddenly gone, no matter how irritating it was. This boredom lasted only as short time, as party guests started to filter into the paddock.

I usually attempt to figure out whom the party is for based on which Hobbit is not in the crowd, but for this party it would be impossible. Every Hobbit in the Shire appeared to here, young and old and all completely senile; the entirety of Hobbit-kind in this one paddock. It occurred to me that this would be a very good time to wipe the wicked little beasts off of Middle Earth, but unfortunately I realised for a second time that night that I could not move without the help of Longo. Longo was also too far away for me to have any hope of him hearing me over the sound of the party. Not that he would listen anyhow. He was drinking ale with his best mates Bungo and Fosco, and the little hellions of the Shire, Meriadoc and Peregrin. Of everyone in the Shire, those two could be counted amongst the worst. They were always up to some kind of shenanigans, and the amount of times those two cretins had spilt ale on me was astounding. I must digress yet again, however, as Mister Bilbo Baggins and Gandalf the Grey make their appearances.

Old Bilbo and Gandalf are the only two people around the Shire that have any care for me. Bilbo was known in his youth to spill a drink or two on me, but he has long since grown out of this habit. Gandalf has not even once scuffed his boot against me, which I consider quite an honour. The last time he was here in the Shire, Master Gandalf had some dog excrement upon his boot, and I was right beside him. I curse myself to this day for even thinking the great wizard would wipe the feces upon me, but he walked right past me and wiped it on a rock instead. I was greatly honoured that he thought to not wipe the excrement on me. Gandalf the Grey is a good wizard, and Bilbo has stood up for my mistreatment more times than I can count. His protection his probably why I have lived this long. Granted he really only did it so he could have full access to my undamaged self during party season, but it really has saved me some trouble.

I quickly figured out that the party was, in fact, for Bilbo Baggins. I was delighted, thinking he and Gandalf would keep my beatings to a low tonight, but I was sorely wrong. I will be the first to note that every time Gandalf the Grey brings fireworks to Hobbiton, something goes wrong. Still he continues to bring them, not that I'm complaining about the greatest wizard who ever did live or anything. On this particular day, the thing that went wrong had a name. In fact, it had two names, and those names were Peregrin Took and Meriadoc Brandybuck. Those two malicious Hobbits plotted my near demise through the use of the great Gandalf's fireworks. It was traumatising and almost unimaginable when it happened.

The wicked duo rooted through Gandalf the Grey's private possessions to find the most evil of objects, a firework. Once they had that, they were on a warpath that not even Bilbo or Gandalf could stop. In the moment I realised they were coming for me I panicked and called out to everyone and anyone. I called to Longo, to Bilbo, and Gandalf, I called to Frodo Baggins, Bilbo's misguided ward, called to Longo's friends Bungo and Fosco; I called to every Hobbit in my sight. There was no answer. The Hobbits, they wanted me to die this terrible death at the hands of Meriadoc and Peregrin. Within seconds they launched their attack. I was propelled into the air by the force of the firework pushing at my mid-section. My sides flapped in the wind as I travelled the terrifying feet into the air, and suddenly the firework exploded in my midsection. I screamed as I saw pieces of my body flutter down to the unconcerned earth. In the searing explosion, the was no pain, only terror. The single worst moment of my life was over in a second as the world went black.

When I woke again, I was in a completely different place. There were walls around me, their sides curved up in a graceful slope, little round windows adoring them. A couch was placed daintily in front of me with chairs set about it in a pretty fashion. I was inside a Hobbit hole. I had never been inside of a Hobbit hole before; I had always been kept in a shed. I wondered what had happened to me, and why I was even still alive after that terrifying attack. I hope Gandalf made Peregrin and Meriadoc pay for what they did to me. Longo's wife walked into the room, she was followed closely by Longo himself and I refocused my attention from my thoughts to what they were saying.

"They're saying he just disappeared, Polly," Longo said, setting the tea he was carrying down on the small table in front of the couch. Polly frowned at him, but set her tea down also. They both sat.

"Disappeared?" Polly commented.

"Yes, according to Sam, it's got Frodo all up in a fuss. Not only that, but Gandalf gone and left too, right on his tails," Longo assured her. He took a sip of his tea.

"Oh I do hope Bilbo will be alright, wherever he is," Polly said. Always been weak, that girl, caring way too much, if you ask me. Which many people often do.

"Well he's Bilbo Baggins, wherever he and Gandalf have run off to its some weird adventure that we don't need to hear about," Longo said.

This is wonderful. First I get blown up by two little monsters, now not only have I woken up in a completely unfamiliar place, but Bilbo and Gandalf are gone. Life is very, very cruel to me. This is not even the worst part. After Longo and Polly have decided to stop gossiping about my saviours, Polly turns directly to me and says, "I finished the new curtains; don't they look nice? I knew that old tent would be good for something eventually."

Curtains? Did that Hobbit just say she turned me into CURTAINS! I was a member of a very important species of party tents! I was second in the Official Order of Party Tents: Hobbiton Division and this senile Hobbit has the nerve to turn me into curtains? I may pass out in shock! Actually, I think I will pass out in shock.

For the next few months I found myself adjusting to the life of being curtains in a sitting room. The existence was not that harsh as being a party tent, nobody spilt drinks on you, nobody rubbed foreign substances on your sides, nobody tried to blow you up when you were least expecting it. Several of Polly's friends even commented on how dashing I looked as curtains. Okay, the word may have been 'pretty' but nonetheless, it was a complement. The only thing I wanted was to know if the Hobbits that caused my near demise had met justice. My wish was answered one day as Polly and her cousin Dolly gossiped over tea and cake.

"Did you hear about Frodo?" Dolly said. She arranged her dress around her importantly. In my months I had been studying Hobbit ladies, I had learned their habits. Dolly most definitely had something important to say.

"Yes, Longo told me, said Sam and Frodo left this morning in quite a rush, don't know what it's about though," Polly said, blowing delicately on her tea. Dolly sniffed, this indicated that she was annoyed that Polly knew already.

"Did you hear the second part though?" Dolly said, slightly saucily. Polly tipped an eyebrow with intrigue.

"No, Longo only told me about his cousin and Frodo leaving."

Dolly smiled, "This part is good. Apparently Frodo and Sam met up with Merry and Pippin who had been off stealing carrots and such again-"

"No surprise there," Polly interjected. The two laughed. I waited impatiently, I wanted to know what had happened to my attackers.

"Anyway, the four left on some whirlwind adventure together," Dolly concluded. I hoped those two creatures met their ends at the tip of something pointy and I would finally have my revenge.

About one year later, Meriadoc and Peregrin were the last things on my mind as Polly and Longo had decided to procreate. This brand new little hellion was to be rivalled by none other than the most evil. The child had the audacity to pull on me. And his parents did nothing about this. In fact, they laughed. What terrible, terrible Hobbits. What terrible, terrible parents. All Hobbits are evil.

The news one day came in again by the word of Dolly. The wise Dolly disliked Polly and Longo's terrible creature and thus did not come over much anymore, but when she did, it was because she has something good.

"Frodo, Sam, Merry and Pippin are back!" She exclaimed, walking into the room. Longo and Polly's beast came along and started pulling on me again. I glared at him.

"Are they all okay?" asked Polly. Again with the over caring. No wonder they let their monster pull on me. She cared to much to give the child a good whack for assaulting me.

"Yes, they're all fine," Dolly replied.

Fine? Meriadoc and Peregrin, the most terrible creatures to roam Middle Earth, my attackers, my exploders, my assaulters are _fine?_ Why does the world hate me so? Can I not get justice for the life that I have had? All the spilt drinks, the food fights, the unidentifiable substances, the dishwater. All this abuse from a hellion child, from thousands of Hobbits over the years, and from my nemeses Peregrin and Meriadoc. They leave on a huge, dangerous adventure and come back just fine? The world has no justice, no sense, no reason. I refuse to stand for this. From this day forward I resolve to glare at absolutely everything.


End file.
